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Oh, yes, you see me now.
Her lungs are beginning to burn. They must be deeper now than she has ever been. Her inner ears scream and the fillings in her teeth writhe inside the enamel.
Calm, Mercedes. Calm, my love. You love the water. For him, it is fear.
How deep are we now? she wonders idly. She can barely see the light above at all.
Matthew jerks convulsively and a huge bubble bursts from his mouth.
I could probably let go now.
No. I’ll wait. To be sure.
She feels deliciously serene. While she waits, she takes her arm from around his neck and slips it from the anchor loop. They drift in the current, suspended, no longer going down.
He jerks again. More bubbles explode on her face: one, two. One from each lung, she thinks. He’s reached the bottom. All gone. Nothing there now but ocean brine.
He is limp as a rag doll in her grip.
Mercedes lets go. Kicks him away in a last gesture of contempt. And then she reaches up and swims, steadily, for the surface.
